


Hanging On By a Tether

by JeanjacketCarf



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Apparently the weird eye guy is named Norvok, Caitlin Snow Bartender, Caitlin Snow's grand European tour, Expletives, F/M, Gen, Iris West Reporter, It gets a bit dark, Suicidal Thoughts, barcelona, currently canon compliant, oc murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-17 15:44:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12368925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeanjacketCarf/pseuds/JeanjacketCarf
Summary: In 4x01, Cisco vibes Caitlin and is surprised to find her just across town tending bar. As soon as he shows up, she jumps at the chance to rejoin Team Flash but everything is not as it appears.My take on the intervening six months from 3x23 to 4x01- how did Caitlin end up working for the Blacksmith, how do Cisco and Iris cope in the aftermath, how does Iris really feel about Caitlin rejoining the team.





	1. Barcelona

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Sleep State's song "Tether"  
> This will probably all be proven wrong by the show as season 4 unfolds but I thought I'd try my hand at it  
> I also tried to incorporate Killer Frost's heat vampirism from the comics and explain how things went from Caitlin Frost in the Season 3 finale to back to the hulk dichotomy this season.

The sun was setting over Las Ramblas, golden light glinting off the rows of umbrellas outside the cafes and the mass of people moving down the street. Green leaves on the gently bowing trees waves in the breeze. 

It was a beautiful view, one, she’d imagined, she would see for the first time with Ronnie by her side. Now, five years after the plane tickets had been canceled and the wedding invitations had been trashed, she was here in Barcelona on what was supposed to be their honeymoon. Only she wasn’t Caitlin Raymond. She wasn’t even Caitlin Snow anymore. She was hardly even human anymore. 

“Més cafè, senyoreta?” The waiter leaned over her shoulder, his breath smelling like cigarettes. He was a few years younger than her, dressed all in black and looking warm in the evening heat. She nodded and moved her journal, which contained most of her information on her own condition, so he could take her cup and saucer. 

He’d been refilling her espresso for the last three hours and while she was enjoying the taste, it was starting to become evident that her new metabolism wasn’t affected by caffeine. She still felt bone tired. Nothing seemed to be able to change that. 

When she and Ronnie had planned their grand European tour they were only going to stay in Barcelona for two nights. Leaving Central City, through somewhat questionable means, she’d meant to stick to the original plan exactly, no matter how morbid. Part of her was looking for closure, part of her was just trying to hurt. But by the time she reached Barcelona, all her energy had run out. 

Night after night she stared sleepless up at the ceiling, mind working over the icy anger of Killer Frost and the burning loneliness of Caitlin Snow. She didn’t know where she fit into that now. She didn’t particularly want to be either of them. 

She spent her days, wandering the city and trying to self-help book her way to sanity. Mostly she found herself daydreaming about sleep though every time she drifted off, nightmares fueled by guilt and shame woke her again. 

Even half a world away from Central City, there was no peace because there was no escaping herself.

The breeze picked up and Caitlin shivered, pulling her jacket closer. It did nothing to ease the chill in her bones.

It was late June in Spain, the start of what the news was saying was shaping out to be an unusually warm summer. The tourists walking past her were shiny with perspiration and sunscreen. Still, the sun did nothing to warm her.

The waiter returned with her refill. He noticed her shivering.

“Teniu la grip? Vostè ha d'estar al llit,” he muttered gently as he placed the coffee in front of her. Caitlin scrambled to her guidebook. In planning her trip, she’d missed the fact that in Spain they didn’t speak the same way as her Peruvian professor in college or Cisco’s family, and that in Barcelona they actually spoke Catalan. Nice one, Caitlin. 

“Uh, estic bé. Gràcies.” She stumbled through and he nodded though his eyes remained pitying.  
She wrapped her hands around the small mug and held it close to her face to try to soak up the heat. She wished for a giant hot chocolate but she had no idea how to order it. Instead, she closed her eyes to breath her the piping hot smell of fresh coffee and took a sip. She lips met ice. 

She jumped in her seat and dropped the cup on the table. Instead of shattering, it clanged against the metal and spun, its contents frozen solid. An inkling of warmth spread across her face and faded just as quickly. She was left colder than before. 

 

Over the next week, it got steadily worse. The cold crept into her bones and she lay in her hotel room shivering under a mountain of blankets. Her appetite faded to nothing and wouldn’t have done her any good anyway. Almost anything she touched turned to ice.

She spent 20 minutes arguing in broken English and Catalan with the proprietor of the hotel asking him to turn on the central heating which he refused. Spain was in the midst of a heat wave and the hotel was out of room fans and losing guests by the day. What kind of crazy woman would want the heat on?

She went looking for a drugstore to buy a thermometer and tripped down a set of stairs. A man reached out to catch her but lept back with a yelp. His arms were bright red and coated in frost. He looked at her with fear in his eyes and hissed something she guessed to be their word for metahumans. He said it like a curse, like something hateful. She scrambled to her feet and ran back to her hotel, forgetting her errand entirely.

It didn’t matter anyway. She could already tell by the symptoms. Shallow breathing, weak pulse, loss of coordination, confusion, exhaustion. It was hypothermia, a slow onset that would have baffled scientific minds just five years ago. Her body was a heatsink, relentlessly absorbing warmth from her surroundings but not producing any of its own. With her powers working 24/7 but not being used she couldn’t absorb enough heat to stay alive and she feared just what she would have to do to get enough heat. The ambient air didn’t seem to do much for her, but her powers had instantly latched onto that man. He was lucky to walk away with only mild frostbite, as this went on, it was likely the next person who touched her would have a much more grisly fate.  
She was dying. Her powers were killing just like they had saved her and they were probably going to take someone else down with her before they were done. In retrospect, it seemed inevitable. While for Central City, the particle accelerator may have turned out to be a net positive, for her it had always been a curse. It had taken her husband from her twice, it had revealed just what darkness lay within her heart, and now it was turning her into a walking natural disaster. She couldn’t even be mad. Maybe this was just what she deserved. Afterall, she was the prophesied betrayer. It was always meant to be this way. So much for do no harm.

 

She woke from a fitful sleep to find the room scorched with ice. Outside, it was mid-morning on another brutally hot day in Barcelona. Inside, the carpet had been turned to permafrost and her blankets looked like they had contacted liquid nitrogen. Whatever heat she’d absorbed had already dissipated though, there was no relief from the cold. She realized this could be so much worse. On Christmas, she’d turned rain to snow, dropping the temperature of the city by five degrees and keeping it that way for the whole night. With her powers entirely out of control, she could probably plunge all of Barcelona into an ice age.

Caitlin eyed a bottle of sleeping pills she bought a week ago with a forged prescription. They hadn’t done much to help with her insomnia but the bottle was large with nearly 500 pills in it. That would be well over the lethal limit for a regular human, hopefully, it would do the job with her heightened healing and metabolism. Already being at death’s door would probably help.

Caitlin had never considered suicide before even on her darkest days. Maybe she was too selfish, too prone to lashing out at others or compressing her emotions down to nothing. She liked to shove the blame off onto other people and run away. Rarely, did she turn her anger against herself, this last month excepting. But this wasn’t about what she wanted, this was about doing what was right. Maybe a single act of selflessness would make up for a lifetime of selfishness. 

Still, there were things she couldn’t leave unsettled. Things she needed to say that couldn’t go unsaid. She dragged out her phone and logged into the hotel’s spotty wifi. She sent a single text and laid the phone next to the open bottle. She was too exhausted to calculate the time difference but she hoped the message got through. Hopefully, she could wait until a reply came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation from Catalan:  
> "Would you like more coffee, Miss?"  
> "Do you have the flu? You should be in bed."  
> "Uh, I'm fine. Thank you."  
> Sorry if that's janky, I got it from Google Translate.  
> Next chapter is an interlude with Cisco and Iris!


	2. One Month Gone

The vibrating phone on the bedside table jerked Iris awake in the bleary early morning. She groaned and rolled over, reaching over to nudge and admonish Barry for leaving his phone on. It couldn't be hers, she always turned her's off when she went to bed. No distractions, it was their deal but her hand hit a cold open expanse and she remembered. 

Barry was gone. She’d left her phone on as she had for the last month in case there was some news. In case, Cisco found something or Wally needed help or Barry was back. She wasn't giving up hope and just then her heart beat faster with the realization of what this text could mean. 

The red numbers "3:17" were blurry on the alarm clock and achingly bright on her phone's lock screen. She scanned it trying to make sense of the words, still half asleep, then her hope plummeted straight into her gut. It wasn't Cisco or Wally or Dad. It wasn't good news. It was from someone she honestly hadn’t expected to hear from again. The message blinked on her lock screen.  
Dr. Snow  
Iris, we need to talk

Iris felt a sudden urge to throw the phone across the room and watch it smash into tiny pieces against the wall. 

Caitlin Snow. Killer Frost. The ice witch who'd tried to kill her. Those were more accurate names, they would have made more sense to be staring at her at 3 in the morning. 

She’d written “Dr. Snow” into her phone 4 years ago when Barry was still in his coma and he was first moved to STAR Labs. Back then, they’d been Dr. Wells, Dr. Snow, and Cisco Ramon, strangers. The people who had destroyed the city. The only people who could keep Barry alive. Dr. Snow had been a quiet and cold woman who watched and waited patiently while Iris held Barry’s hand and told him about her day. 

For whatever reason, Iris had never bothered to change the contact name even as she came to know the woman exclusively as Caitlin. It seemed strange that after all those years, after all, they’d been through, they only had a couple dozen messages exchanged back and forth, all of them businesslike and logistical. But Caitlin had always held everyone, except maybe Cisco, at arm’s length. There were none since March. And then, one at 3 am with Barry a month gone. We need to talk. About what? That whole murder attempt? Oh, water under the bridge. 

Iris felt a surge of something, anger crawling unfamiliarly under her skin. She wanted to squeeze the phone until it cracked in half. Her hand clenched but the case only squeaked and the volume turned up. Her jaw clenched. 

“Fuck you, Caitlin Snow!”

She didn’t break the phone, just turned it off and tossed it in the drawer of the bedside table, the message unread. 

 

Iris sat bolt upright in bed, chest heaving, a layer of sweat coating her skin. She didn’t remember the nightmare that had dragged her from sleep but she had the sinking feeling it had something to do with Barry. A hand reaching out of the dark. Her own grasping but not quite connecting. The Speed Force a howling storm. Iris took a deep breath. Not real. It’s not real. 

Outside, it was still dark. She’d been asleep only 3 hours. Still, a sense of urgency ran through her. What if something had happened during the night. She scrambled for the nightstand and the phone inside. The startup was agonizingly slow. The lack of new messages was worse. The unread message from the week before sat on her home screen innocuously. Like it could be from anyone. Like it could be from a year ago. Iris felt a surge of anger again, at what she wasn’t sure. Maybe Caitlin Snow. Maybe Killer Frost. Maybe Barry. Or Wally. Or the universe and fate. At the series of events that had lead her up to this point, alone and pissed at a text message. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. In all the versions of her future life she had dreamt up over the years, it never ended like this and yet, in real life, it always ended like this. 

Iris shook her head and tossed the phone aside. No more feeling sorry for herself. She got up and dressed in her workout clothes. There was a 24-hour gym down the block which she had been taking advantage of a lot recently. Barry had said to keep running, he probably didn’t mean it literally but it seemed to help when his absence became too much and she couldn’t sleep. 

She was on her fourth mile on the inside track when her phone buzzed on the bench. She slowed her pace, her beat thudding in her chest, finally walking as she approached it. Part of her didn’t to pick it up, dreading that it would be another message from “Dr. Snow”. Eventually, she was going to have to do something about it. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a clue what.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Cisco’s name on her home screen. That she could deal with.  
Cisco Ramon  
Hey, u up?

She typed back an affirmation, asked what was up. He asked her to his favorite diner. If they could talk. She was sticky with sweat in a ratty t-shirt but it was the middle of the night so she didn’t bother with a shower. She would take one before work and caught a cab there, not feeling like driving. Cisco could drop her off when they were done. This wasn’t the first time, he’d asked to talk late at night when they both were awake. Still, Iris felt like there was more weight to this request. Like he had something on his mind.

 

"I can't tell if this is more Blade Runner or Twin Peaks," Cisco said between noodle slurps. He looked out the window to the streaks of heavy rain illuminated by red neon. His order was a mixture of both, ramen and a slice of pie with a cup of coffee. Iris did appreciate the coffee here. It always came dark and bitter and strong. Oh and piping hot. She took a sip hoping it would roast her all the way through. 

"Damn fine cup of coffee," she commented. Cisco grinned. He was avoiding the subject, she could tell. Whatever that subject happened to be.

Honestly, the diner reminded her more of a movie she saw in an international film studies class in college. A Chinese film called Chungking Express about the lovelorn at night in an indifferent city.

Iris mentally rolled her eyes. She was glad she hadn't said that out loud. She was getting melodramatic in her old age. She shuffled her scrambled eggs around on their fourth or fifth rotation of the plate. 

"Cisco, what did you want to talk to me about?" 

"Can't I just want to spend time with you? I mean, aren't we friends?" 

"It's almost 3 am." 

"Well, neither of us were sleeping." Iris winced and took another sip of her coffee. She had hoped nobody knew about that. She wished Cisco could get a decent night's sleep without needing to worry about her. 

"You don't need to keep me company."

"Maybe I need you. To keep me company, that is." He ran a hand through his hair and looked out the window again or maybe at their blurry reflection in the glass. "I just feel like I'm slamming my head into a steel wall all day long. I'm trying to put STAR back together and fight metas at the same time and..." 

"And you're still hurting?" 

Cisco looked embarrassed when he nodded.

“I used to call Caitlin when I needed to talk about this sort of thing. I’m sorry I’m making you my substitute. I just can’t, I can’t keep this all bottled up.”

She tried to keep her face carefully blank when he mentioned Caitlin’s name. She wasn’t sure if that was to hide her anger when he was so clearly hurting and missing his friend or the knowledge of that damned text. What would it say that Cisco hadn’t heard anything from her for over a month and she’d contacted Iris who didn’t even have the guts to text back?

She carefully laid a hand on Cisco’s own outstretched one. His skin was warm and she realized it had been weeks since she’d let anyone touch her. He flipped his hand over so their hands rested palm to palm and wrapped his long fingers around hers. 

“You still miss her? After everything?” Iris kept her eyes firmly fixed on their interlaced hands. 

“Hey, you know me,” he chuckled with forced levity. “I’m way too forgiving. I’m always handing out second and third and fourth chances. That’s why I need you. To keep me in check so I don’t try to hug every villain we come across.”

“You don’t think I’m forgiving?” Well, maybe she wasn’t known for forgiving everyone she came across. But she didn’t think she was known for holding grudges. Already, she could feel her anger waning, turning into something more like disappointment.

“No, you are. Just within reason. You’ve got like emotional intelligence and you know how to see through bullshit. Somehow, I never really acquired that skill.”

“I don’t know, Cisco. I think you’re overestimating me. I feel like I put a lot of faith out there and it all got thrown back in my face. That’s what hurts the most about it.”

For a long moment, his dark eyes stared into hers and then darted away. He watched the horizon as it lightened and Iris wondered if he was thinking about where the erstwhile Dr. Snow was right then. 

“I know what you mean but I can’t help how I feel. She’s been my best friend for almost a decade. There’s a lot of history there and I have to have faith that it wasn’t all her,” he smiles in a bit of a bittersweet way. “Maybe, I just have bad taste in friends, you know, except for you.”

Iris smiles back but she knows he’s talking about Barry now. Her beloved, sweet, beautiful Barry who in another timeline tried to kill her and killed plenty of other people. Who inadvertently created a timeline where Cisco’s brother died. 

Shit, what was wrong with them? Were they really that hopeless?

At least, they were both still alive. At least, they still had each other when it seemed they’d lost everything else. 

Iris didn’t tell Cisco about the text. She just quietly deleted it from her phone. If she ever saw Caitlin Snow again she’d deal with her then, for now, she was done talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me for my pretentious pop culture references, I can't help myself.  
> Thanks everyone for leaving comments and kudos, I really appreciate it!  
> Next Chapter: The Blacksmith


	3. The Blacksmith

Caitlin was lapsing in and out of consciousness, she didn’t know for how long. The cold was deeper and darker than anything she’d ever felt before, almost worse than the fear of her own transformation. All she knew was Iris hadn’t texted back. Her mind turned over that and she woke with a start. 

She remembered a funeral. Remembered standing in the shadow of a tree, too afraid to get closer. Overwhelmed by the knowledge that the body was in the ground because of her. She remembered how it had gnawed at her insides. How she wished she could have been beneath the tombstone instead. But she didn’t remember who it was. Was it Iris? Was Iris dead? Had she killed her?

Frozen tears dribbled down her cheeks. It hurt to know that there was nothing she could do to turn back the clock. That she couldn’t undo what had been done. That her grief didn’t, in the end, mean anything. That her guilt was useless. Who cared if the monster cried? It didn’t change a thing. It was a relief to think that, one way or another, it would all be over soon. She was a coward, just wanting it all to go away, but right then she couldn’t bring herself to regret that. 

“Hmm, what’re you crying about?”

She blinked her eyes open and searched the room for the voice. It was hard to focus. It was hard to see straight.

There he was. A blurry man with dark hair hanging into his face, one eye was black, the other lazy and blue. He seemed to be watching her with the dead blue one. 

“What are you doing here? Who are you?” Her voice didn’t sound like her own.

He smiled. It was not a friendly smile.

“That’s not important right now. You’re a meta, aren’t cha? That ice bitch?”

She flinched at the name but there didn’t seem to be any denying it. Her hair was snow white. The room was full of ice. Who else could she be?

“Maybe.” Wow, that sounded pitiful. 

“And you’re not doing so hot?” He chuckled, continuing as if she hadn’t spoken. “No pun intended. Seems to me you could use some help. Would you like some of that?”

“Wha- what?” She wasn’t really following the conversation if it was a conversation. She wasn’t quite sure he was even real.

He ran a thumb across the side of his nose and looked down at her with that creepy dead eye.

“What I’m saying is it looks like you’re dying, little girl. Is that something you want to do? Do you want to die?” 

Caitlin stared up at him and she knew. The thing in her that had scrambled to never be hurt again. That didn’t want to be old pushover Caitlin Snow anymore. That had fought tooth and nail to never be powerless again, that had wanted to be a god. It was still inside her and no, it did not want to die. 

“No.”

His smile now was a little more genuine, a little more gleeful, but not necessarily nicer.

“I didn’t think so.” He pulled out something from a black case. It took her a second to recognize it as a jet injector. She tried to tell him how needle-free injectors were now rarely used in the medical profession because of the high chance of patient to patient cross-contamination, but the words didn’t quite make it to her mouth. He grabbed hold of her arm, she realized he was wearing a thick rubber glove, and shoved the nozzle of the device against her skin. She winced at the sharp pinch and watched as he threw the frost covered gun aside. “Now, sit tight and we’ll get you all fixed up.”

The room began to spin and Caitlin slumped backward as everything faded to black.

 

When Caitlin came to it was to the buzzing of fluorescent lights and a terrible taste in her mouth. She was lying flat on her back on something hard and unforgiving. But the first thing her mind focused on was the all-abiding warmth. It was like she had never been warm before and she just been dumped into a furnace. It felt better than sex. She stretched her arms over her head and reveled in the sensation. 

Someone laughed off to the side. She rolled over to see and gagged as a sudden wave of nausea hit her. 

“Oh, don’t exert yourself too much, my dear. You’ve been through a lot.” The voice sounded like it belonged to somebody’s grandmother. Caitlin tried to focus, her head pounding.

A figure came into view. She was dressed in blue, no she was blue. Covered in a strange metallic skin overlaid in geometric golden lines. 

Caitlin gasped. She’d seen metahumans deformed by their powers, even to the point of turning into a shark-man hybrid, but this was alien. She sat up abruptly, head spinning. Some of her hair got in her face. She reached up to touch it.  
“It’s brown,” she muttered.

The thing? The woman? Whatever it was smiled. The expression looked strange on her blue skin.

“I know. That was a consequence of what I had to do to save your life.”

“My powers?” She couldn’t feel the cold anymore and everything didn’t seem at risk of freezing. It felt so good. Still, there was a reason she hadn’t taken the cure when Cisco offered it. That would mean excusing everything she’d done as something Killer Frost did. It would also mean being helpless all over again.

The woman came closer, reached out and ran a blue finger through her hair. Caitlin flinched away, nearly toppling off the table she was sitting on.

“They’re dormant right now but don’t worry. You should be able to turn them on whenever you wish. After all, I couldn’t lock them away forever, not when they’ll be oh so useful to me.”

“What did you do? Who are you?”

The woman laughed again.

“They call me the Blacksmith. I’m good with machines. I made one for you.” Caitlin’s hand crept up the back of her neck where she could feel fresh stitches. Her eyes widened in horror. The Blacksmith smiled back at her. “Don’t worry. It’s not the type to turn on and off or explode if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s like a switch for your brain. You can’t stay all frosty all the time or you’ll keep freezing. But like I said you can turn it on anytime you want,” She paused and looked at Caitlin with deep pupil-less black eyes. “You’re welcome by the way.”

Caitlin swallowed nervously. “Uh, thanks. I guess. How’d you, ya know,” she waved her hand around trying to encompass the whole what the hell is going on? feeling she was having.

“Norvok has a gift for finding people like us. Metahumans. And we were all wondering who the ice bitch was.”

“Can you not call me that?”

“Oh, do you have a name?” 

“Yeah, well it’s… when I’m ‘frosty’ it’s Killer Frost. But normally it’s just Caitlin. Never Ice Bitch, okay?”

There was that laugh again. The one that sounded nicer than it should have.   
“Killer Frost! Oh, that’s good. The Flash didn’t come up with that, did he? His are usually quite cheesy.”

Caitlin had to bite her tongue to keep from correcting her that actually Cisco came up with the names and they were great, thank you very much. She also decided to take the credit for the name since technically her from another earth was still her. 

The Blacksmith turned around and gestured for Caitlin to follow as she left the room. She hesitated a moment and then got unsteadily to her feet.

“Where are you going?”

“To work. We’re going to have so much fun together, Frost.”

“Work?”

The blue woman glanced over her shoulder and gave another smile.

“Oh, yes. I saved your life, darling, you owe me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this is a little short but more is coming tomorrow


	4. September

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caitlin works for Amunet Black and something strange is going on.
> 
>  
> 
> Beware: There's some brutal violence in this chapter. I couldn't help myself.

It was late on a weeknight and the bar was practically deserted except for a few straggling barflies. Some pop song was playing on the radio, one that had been playing on the Top 20 all last spring. Caitlin remembered hating it the last time she’d heard it but now she found herself bobbing gently to the beat. Actually, it was pretty catchy. 

Lorna, the other girl who worked this shift, came out from the back room as she restocked bottles of liquor and took inventory. She smiled when she saw Caitlin bopping along and Caitlin got a little more into it, getting closer to actually dancing.

“Wow, you’re really rocking out up here. Nobody told me we were having a dance party.”

Caitlin did a little two-step and a spin. One of the drunks who’d she thought was passed out, raised his glass and gave a whistle. Caitlin could remember a time when that would have made her uncomfortable, a little embarrassed, a little creeped out. Now she only smiled knowingly and raised her eyebrow.

“It’s closing time, buddy. Scat!” She swatted in his direction and he nearly tumbled off his barstool.

“Sure thing, ma’am,” he leered but she refused to flinch. They stared each other down for a long moment before he finally broke and turned to stumble out the door onto the street.

Lorna watched, looking impressed.

“Fuck, you handle this job like a pro. Are you sure you’ve only been doing this for three months?” 

Caitlin shrugged and went to grab a rag to wipe down the bartop. Her hips and shoulders were still swaying to the song. She wondered what the weather was like outside. If it was nice maybe she would go for a walk. The botanical gardens were nice at night. There were also a couple of clubs that would still be open. That had a certain appeal. She felt like dancing.

“What are you doing when we get done here?” She asked with only mild curiosity. She only glanced up when Lorna didn’t immediately reply. The girl looked confused and a little incredulous.

“Snow, it’s like midnight, I’m going to bed. I’ve been on my feet for eight hours straight, I’m about to collapse.”

“Oh, right.” Caitlin looked away, embarrassed. She’d forgotten that other people liked to sleep. That other people weren’t buzzing with energy and the need to move.

“And didn’t you pick up half of Benny’s shift this afternoon? Dude, how are you even alive right now?”

“Oh, you know. Good genes and all that.” Caitlin tried to keep it casual but her choice in words shut Lorna right up. They could both read between the lines to dark energy corrupted DNA. Caitlin didn’t exactly know what Lorna could do but she knew she could do something. Everyone who worked there could. The Blacksmith liked to keep her client base and her minions close. It helped to keep them scared and to keep what was hidden in the basement safe. 

“Snow!” A voice called out of the back room and both of them stiffened. Norvok prowled into the front of the bar with his usually predatory lope. Lorna ducked her head, not daring to make eye contact with his dead blue eye. Caitlin knew she ought to be scared of him too but she could only seem to push herself to wary. These days it was far too hard to dent her sunny good mood. Norvok grinned his not-friendly smile. “I heard you’re not tired. Which is good ‘cuz I’ve got a job for you.”

Caitlin refused to react to the fact that he’d been eavesdropping on them. She watched him as he came to lean up against the bar.   
“What kind of job?”

Norvok shrugged, going for nonchalant and failing. He was a dangerous man, he wouldn’t be the Blacksmith’s right-hand man if he wasn’t, but he wasn’t as smooth as he thought he was.

“Oh, no big deal. Just go pick something up down at the docks. A few kegs of that premium German stuff and some things for the boss. You can take the truck and Bruno.” Bruno was the bouncer. 

Caitlin considered it for a moment, knowing that this wasn’t really a request. That she didn’t really have a choice. Then, she smiled brightly.

“Sure. Why not?”

 

Years ago, standing on the waterfront in the dead of night surrounding by vacant warehouses would have set her teeth on edge. She would have have been dying to get out of there and curl up in her bed, mind running through with all the ghastly things that could happen to her in this part of town. Now, she took it with an easy mix of apathy and bliss that had followed her relentlessly for the last 3 months.

Bruno, a hulking bald man dressed in black leather, shifted uncomfortably beside her, Despite appearances, he was a nervous man and nowhere near as frightening as he looked. A month before, he’d let slip to Caitlin that the scar that marred the left side of his face had been given to him by a Pomeranian he’d gotten too close to as a child. Before the particle accelerator explosion, he’d been an electrician with a struggling business. Now, his abilities and his size made him useful and powerful. He seemed to enjoy that.

“You’re sure you’re not getting any bad vibes about this? They’re late,” Bruno grumbled and kicked at the pavement.

Caitlin winced at “vibe”, but tried to keep to herself. No one with the Network knew about her connection to the Flash or to Vibe and she wanted to keep it that way. Instead, she made a point about shrugging nonchalantly.

“I don’t know, Bruno. I’m not a psychic.”

“Right, but if there’s trouble you’ll be able to… you know? I saw what you could do on the news.”

That was the question, wasn’t it? For three months, Caitlin hadn’t used her powers and in that time she hadn’t felt Frost stir once. Amunet had assured her they were still there but she’d never been tempted to try.

Bruno watched her with concern written on his face. Clearly, he wasn’t in as good a mood as she was.

Before she could reply, they spotted the blinking lights of a river barge coasting towards them. It was one of those self-propelled types that carry bulk goods in slow-moving waters. It had come down from Canada with supplies the Blacksmith needed for her work. Bruno and Caitlin were supposed to make sure everything went smoothly. They weren’t the most experienced pair on the payroll, but Norvok must have judged they were up for it, considering it was only an exchange of salvaged electronics with little value to anyone other than a technopath and most criminals from out of town were scared to death of metas.

Bruno squared his shoulders and went to greet the captain as the boat came to a stop against the dock. Caitlin hung back by the truck. The assistant dockmaster who handled the night shift was paid off but you never knew who might stop by. It was always good to keep an eye out.

Apparently, everything was going alright because Bruno gave the signal to go get the cash as one of the boat’s crew members powered up a forklift and began unloading heavy crates. Caitlin hopped into the cab of the truck and grabbed a thick envelope hidden under the passenger seat. 

This should have bothered her. Using the dirty money to pay smugglers for the raw materials to make weapons for thieves and killers, that should have set off all her alarm bells. Whatever happened to the girl who would recite the Hippocratic Oath every night before she went to sleep? Who nearly puked from guilt after being dared to steal a candy bar at 11 and returned in tears to pay for it? Even worse, she knew this apathy should have scared her, but she just couldn’t feel it. This was all like a mildly interesting discovery. One she’d love to research and test, but not something that challenged her entire sense of self and sanity.

“Snow, come’on!” Bruno was nervous again, she could tell, so she hopped down from the cab and went to meet him and the barge’s captain. 

The captain was a smallish, wiry man with an unruly salt and pepper beard and bright glaring eyes. He scratched his chin with nicotine-stained fingers.

“So all set. Nice doin’ business with ya.” He reached for the envelope, grinning.

The forklift drove passed them, the contents of the crate clattering loudly. It sounded like a rockslide she’d nearly been caught in while taking a hiking trip with Ronnie in California just before they’d gotten engaged. She turned to follow the forklift’s path as it headed to the truck. The last shipment she’d unloaded at the bar sounded more plasticky, like Cisco spilling out his N64 cartridges on the carpet.

“Shouldn’t we…”

“Oh, right,” Bruno groaned. “We gotta check the merchandise.

The captain screwed up his face.

“I got a dozen other drops tonight. I don’t have time for that.”

Bruno was already heading over to one of the crates on the dockside with a crowbar from the back of the truck.

“‘Cept I don’t answer to you. I answer to the boss and she says ‘check the fucking merchandise every time.’” he brought the crowbar to the crate, wedging the tip under the wooden lid. 

The guy driving the forklift got out and reached into the pocket of his jacket.

Caitlin watched the captain tense and reach toward his back. Something wasn’t right.

“Bruno!”

The lid popped off the crate showing nothing but concrete rubble. Bruno stared at it in dull amazement. The forklift guy pulled out a pistol and the captain drew a long, wicked looking knife. 

He dove at Caitlin but she dodged out of the way, clutching the package of money to her chest. Gunshots rang out. She couldn’t see if they made contact. The captain lunged again, this time catching her in the arm with the knife. She cried out in pain and stumbled backward.

A foot came out and struck her in the ankle. She fell, scraping her hands and knees on the pavement.

“It doesn’t have to be like this, just give us the money and we’ll go,” the captain growled. He posed the knife above her. Caitlin knew the money wasn’t worth dying over, especially considering who it belonged to. But she knew he was going to kill her either way.

He seemed to see that in her face and smiled. Then, there was a crowbar where his eye used to be. He let out a gurgled moan and faltered back a step, knife swinging. Then, he was dead and collapsed limply to the ground. 

Bruno appeared grabbing Caitlin by the shoulder and pulling her to her feet. Everything metal was vibrating, forklift a mangled scrap pile. Bruno’s powers at work.

“Let’s go, Snow!” He dragged her toward the truck. There was blood on his pant leg. The only thing she could hear was the pounding in her ears.

From the shadows burst a man, one of the smugglers, brandishing a wooden bat. Caitlin cried out. Bruno didn’t turn in time. The bat smashed into the side of his head with a sickening crack. Blood splattered hot on her face.

A great and terrible anger welled up inside her and all the heat bled from the world.

 

Caitlin fought her way to the surface through an endless winter. The fury of the storm made manifest and reveling in the destruction it wrought all around her.

She found herself, breathing heavily, surrounded by five bodies, frost-burned and riddled with icicles. The crew of the barge was all dead. When she’d needed her, Frost had come back.

Caitlin’s knees gave out and she fell on her ass on the hard ground. The cut and skinned hands and knees from earlier were gone. She was still covered in blood though. More than before. She couldn’t tell whose from whose. 

Somewhere there was clapping. She looked up to see Norvok step from the shadows. He was smiling. 

“Nicely done, Snow. Couldn’t have done it better myself.”

“What are you doing here?” She sounded worn, more like her old self. Tired, broken, scared, angry.

“We had a feeling they were gonna double cross us some time. We were underpaying ‘em after all. So the boss suggested we make an example of ‘em. That nobody messes with Amunet Black.” He watched her carefully with his dead eye. She got the impression this lesson wasn’t just for the dead men and their friends. “This will get the word out nicely. And don’t worry we’ll make sure the cops don’t know you’re back in town. Shame about Bruno though.” 

He strolled through the bodies, foot coming down on the fingers of one corpse which snapped like twigs. He pulled the envelope from underneath another frozen body. Brushing snow off it, he tossed a sodden wad of hundreds at Caitlin.

“What’s this for?”

He smiled again. She was really starting to hate that smile.

“Hazard pay.”

 

In her apartment, Caitlin took a long shower until the water went cold. She scrubbed the blood from her hair and her face and underneath her fingernails. In the mirror, there was no sign that Killer Frost had ever been there. 

She put on her pajamas and crawled into bed. It was almost dawn, but she couldn’t sleep. She wasn’t even tired.

She wondered who would replace Bruno at the bar. She wondered if Lorna would expect her to know what happened to him. She wondered if Benny would be able to stay for his full shift for once. She wondered if Cisco would like the classic arcade games and pinball they had at the bar. That seemed like something he would like. She probably would never see him again, he probably would never want to see her again, but if she did she wanted to be able to beat him at them. Maybe she should go in before her shift started every day to practice.

And there it was. Everything slipping right off her. She was gone again.

She rolled out of bed to go look up an Atari app.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I lied about when I was adding this chapter, also I keep adding more chapters. Right now I'm thinking the next one will be Iris at this same time (still pre-4x01) and then a chapter that coincides with 4x01 and afterward, maybe even up to "Girl's Night Out" where I think this storyline will be brought to the fore.  
> So let me know what you guys think about that and my headcanons.   
> As always, thanks for the kudos and comments! Leave one if you like. They make me very happy.


	5. On the Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just because Barry is gone doesn't mean life stops for Iris. She's got work to do.  
> In which, Iris runs the team and keeps her day job. She also gets closer to the events of the last chapter.   
> This fic continues to not have much of a plot, but I'm enjoying writing it.

Iris pinched the bridge of her nose. She was incredulous and annoyed and so tired.

“So you’re honestly telling me this guy, in a green pinstripe suit, stole 15,000 dollars in pennies?”

Wally, seating on the cot in the medbay with his face and bare chest covered in bruises, nodded.

“But that would have been…”

“Yeah, it was a full eighteen wheeler,” Cisco groaned. He was sitting in one of the cortex’s chairs nursing a bloody nose. None of them could remember if you were supposed to lean back or forwards when you had one so they just stuffed his nose full of Kleenex. They were lucky Cisco and Wally hadn’t been hurt worse. It was starting to dawn on Iris that a First Aid class she’d taken five years ago and her ready use of Google probably wouldn’t cut it in a life or death situation. If it came down to it, she wasn’t sure what they would do.

“And then he attacked you? With the pennies?”

“We think the copper plated zinc of the pennies creates a unique magnetic balance which is easy to manipulate. This flute thing he used is probably how he controlled them,” Wally piped in sounding excited.

“He did not have a flute.”

“He had a flute. We’re not kidding.” Cisco mumbled though Iris could tell he was trying hard not to laugh.

She glanced down at the buzzing of her phone. It was a text from her editor.   
Bodies by the docks. Get there, West.

“Listen, guys, I’m on call for Crime this week. They just found some bodies down by the docks. I’m gonna go check it out, see if it’s meta related. Why don’t you get to work on a way to counteract his penny magnetic control whatever so we can catch him next time.”

Cisco threw her a mock salute.

“Aye, aye, capitán!”

She speed-walked out of cortex, already thinking of the fastest route to the dockside at this time of night. Behind her, she could hear Cisco and Wally bickering.

“I’m thinking we’ll call him the Penny Plunderer.”

“Dude, you already named someone Plunderer.”

“No, that was Plunder. Totally different.”

“Whatever, man. I think you’re losing your touch.”

Iris made her way to the front door, chuckling at Cisco’s affronted gasp.

 

By the docks, a crowd of reporters and spectators pressed against a police barricade. Motes of dust were illuminated by a row of high powered floodlights trained on the river and dockside making the whole scene look like it was underwater. 

Distantly Iris could see a row of white sheet covered bodies and a couple of guys in scuba gear resting off to the side. There were a lot of them, those bodies. It made her blood run cold. She’d never liked this beat, writing about the blood on the streets, the people they hadn’t been able to save, but now it seemed even worse. She’d seen too many bodies. Put too many people in the ground. Sometimes never even had anything to put in the ground, but knew they were gone all the same.

Iris pushed the thought away. Work was work. Besides the sheer number of bodies suggested the involvement of organized crime meaning these killings might tie into the group she’d been tracking for the last couple of months.

Among the uniformed cops handling crowd control and supervising the CSI techs, Iris recognized Sgt. Mings. They made eye contact and he ducked to try and avoid her. Unfortunately, for him, she was already moving in for the kill.

“Mings! Hey, Mings, can I get a statement for CCPN?”

He sighed, seeming to know there was no avoiding the confrontation.

“It’s an ongoing investigation and that’s all I’m going to say.”

“Right, so just like Alex says. Not very communicative.”

Mings froze in his tracks.

“You’ve been talking to Alex?”

“At the last precinct picnic, we had a pretty long conversation. He was talking about how hard it was not to compare you to his last husband. The, uh, high school sweetheart who died in a car accident, Jeff, right? Yeah, he was saying how you just don’t talk like Jeff did. I was saying how he had to give you a chance but we’re getting coffee next week and I’ll have to tell him about how you stonewalled me. It’s a classic sign of a fear of intimacy.”

Mings looked up to the sky as if asking someone, anyone, to deliver him from this girl.

“Okay, fine. It’s eight bodies all in the drink since at least last night. There’s also a pile of metal we think used to be a forklift. One of the guys I recognize from booking a few years ago, he was running guns then. No idea what he was doing now. Some drunk phoned it in but I think they wanted us to find ‘em. They didn’t cover it up to well.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s what I got. I’m not a detective. Now can you not tell Alex I’m an asshole?”

Iris smiled.

“Why would I do anything like that?”

Mings rolled his eyes. 

“Sure, kid. Sure.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, here’s your dad. Why don’t you annoy him?”

He moved away to block some kid with a video camera as Joe lumbered up.

“Iris,” her dad ran a hand over his scruffy chin. He looked tired.

“Dad.”

“Look, baby girl, Singh wants to keep this tight. Why don’t you just wait until he makes a statement tomorrow?”

“Because my job isn’t to just write up prepared statements,” she muttered. “So,” she tried to change the subject. “ I heard one of the dead men used to run guns. They’re down here by the river. I’m betting they were smugglers.”

Joe’s eyebrows jumped. He looked at her with surprise.

“Where’d you hear that?”

Iris smiled, knowingly.

“I have my sources. I think this might be connected to that group I’ve been tracing.”

“Which might not even exist. Since you don’t have any proof.”

“Dad, metas have been disappearing all over the city. There has to be a better explanation than they all decided to leave town at the same time.”

“Which is a matter for the police.”

“No,” she dropped her voice to a whisper and leaned in. “It’s a matter for the Flash. Or Kid Flash and Vibe anyway. And if I can get a good expose out of it, well there’s no harm in that.”

Joe pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. It was a gesture she must have picked up from him. Sometimes it startled even her how similar they were.

“You’re running yourself ragged, baby. Do you think you take a break for a night?”

A surge of anger rose up in her.

“Barry told me to keep running so that’s exactly what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna keep running because people need help, they need us.”

Joe held up his hands, appeasing.

“Okay, okay. I was going to pass this along to Wally and Cisco anyway.”

But not you were the unspoken words. Which was pretty typical for her father. She loved him, of course, she did, but he never seemed to get over the idea that it was his job to protect her. If he had his way she still wouldn’t know that metahuman existed. Because if he left her out of it she would somehow be safer. But Iris wasn’t some little girl who needed to be protected from the big bad world. Sometimes the big bads needed to be kept safe from her.

“Cisco’s busy being Vibe these days. He doesn’t have time to do all the work we’re used to, okay? And we’re at least three down from the usual so I have to do some of the detective work, okay? That’s what I’m doing. Figuring out what we’re up against, my way.”

“It’s safer I think behind a computer,” he grumbled but seemed to agree, at least for now.

“Yeah, well, I’ve always thought better on my feet.” She pulled out her notebook and flipped to a fresh page, pen at the ready. “So, whatcha got?”

Joe didn’t have much to say beyond what Mings had already told her. Eight bodies, an abandoned barge with forged papers, no security footage, a night watchman acting squirrelly, all signs pointing to some killers who knew what they were doing. The bodies had been placed to be found, not weighed down with anything, but if they had been killed on the docks there wasn’t a shred of evidence behind. Not a single bullet casing, drop of blood, or fingerprint to be found. Which was what made this unusual. That and none of the victims had been shot. Two had blunt force trauma to the head. Another looked like he’d been crushed flat by something. The five others were torn to shreds but there was no sign of what kind of projectiles could have done the damage. 

“Were they metas?” Iris asked. 

“We won’t be able to tell until we get the blood work back and we have to send it to the next precinct over considering, well you know, we’re short-handed. It might take weeks to hear back.”

“Could we run a sample at STAR?”

Joe raised a single eyebrow.

“Does Cisco know how to do that? Do you?”

Iris rolled her eyes. Fucking Caitlin Snow. This was the second time that night where it would have been pretty damn useful if she’d stuck around. Though, honestly, Julian would have done just fine too.

“I’m sure he can figure it out.”

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Great!” Iris declared with false cheer. She tucked her notebook away in her bag and turned to head back to her car.

“Hey, where are you going?” Joe called after her.

“I have work to do. I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said over her shoulder.

Whatever her dad said this case pointed squarely at the organization she’d only heard whispers about from her informants. The Network. From what she was hearing, it wasn’t so much a gang as a social network among the city’s underground. From the disappearances, she gathered that it was mainly dealing in metahumans, though what it did with them she wasn’t sure. Still, the silence that surrounded it suggested it was still growing and consolidating power. The dead men might be the first step in something larger.

In the parking lot, Iris recognized a couple of men talking and smoking. One was a freelance photographer she’d worked with once and the other worked for a crime blog.

The first man drew his coat closer and shivered.

“Is it me or is it ten degrees colder down here?”

The other man huffed and took a long pull.

“Fall’s coming in, I guess.” He blew out a stream of smoke as Iris passed. Something tugged at the edge of her mind.

When she turned on her car she checked the outside temperature then compared it to the weather app on her phone. It wasn’t the most scientific test but sure enough, it was a few degrees colder outside than it was supposed to be. 

Iris shook her head. That didn’t mean anything. There was no way she had been there.


End file.
